


Pencil Pusher

by ButWhatIfImagines



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 04:32:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15900957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButWhatIfImagines/pseuds/ButWhatIfImagines
Summary: As a member of Overwatch's administrative team, you hardly expect to be noticed by anyone important in the organization. You especially didn't expect to be noticed by a rough-and-tumble Blackwatch cowboy...





	Pencil Pusher

**Author's Note:**

> _McCree crushing on a soft, sweet kinda girl who happens to be sorta a secretary or "pencil pusher"?_
> 
>  
> 
> Cross-posted to our Overwatch imagines blog on tumblr.

Being part of the administrative team at Overwatch was hardly glamorous work, but it was necessary, and you took pride in what you did. Your work went largely unnoticed by the general public, but it was an integral and necessary part of making Overwatch the effective and well-oiled machine everyone knew.

“Hey, sweet pea,” a familiar southern drawl drew you out of your focus on your work.

“Agent McCree,” you said pleasantly, shooting a brief smile in his direction. “I’m afraid Captain Amari and the Strike Commander are away in Geneva for an Overwatch PR event,” you said, reciting their calendars. “And Lieutenant Wilhelm is currently doing a training exercise with some new agents, but if you wanted to leave a message—”

“Actually, darlin’,” he interrupted. “I came to see you.”

You paused and felt heat creep into your cheeks, your brain short-circuiting for the briefest of moments. “Oh,” you stammered. “I see. Well, I—uh…”

He laughed good-naturedly, and set a paper cup on your desk, reciting exactly how you liked your coffee. “That’s how you take it, right?”

You looked stunned, and his boyish grin only widened. Closing your hands around the cup, you nodded. “I… thank you,” you mumbled, pulling it closer. No one had ever brought _you_ a coffee before. You were always the one doing the bringing. Not that you minded, but still, it was quite the surprise.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, looking terribly pleased with himself before taking a seat. “I got some canelés and berliners from a bakery near campus, too, if you’d like somethin’ to eat,” he said, setting a sizeable white cardboard box on your desk. “There’s some éclairs, too, if that’s more your style.”

You delicately pulled the box closer, then smiled impishly. “What, no Franzbrötchen?”

His expression fell, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… no, didn’t think to pick up any of those,” he answered.

You laughed. “Relax, I’m only joking,” you said. “I love canelés, and it’s been a while since I had a good éclair. I think the berliners are more your thing, though.” You’d seen him happily scarfing the jam-filled pastries down on more than one occasion. By the way his smile became a little sheepish, you knew you were right.

You picked an éclair from the box, then pushed it back towards him. His movements were slow and deliberate, and his eyes flitted between you and the box, like he was hoping—

“Why don’t you join me?” You offered. His smile broadened, but he didn’t sit down right away.

“I don’t want to hold you up—”

“It’s fine,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I could use a break, anyway.”

Jesse beamed, plunking down in the poorly-built IKEA chair on the other side of your desk. They’d been chosen specifically for their uncomfortable design, to prevent people from loitering too much. You’d started to leave a small pillow on yours—the cowboy had been coming around a lot, lately.

You didn’t complain. He was very sweet, and pleasant company. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, too. So, you figured if he was coming around that often _anyway_ , the least you could do was provide some cushion for that fantastic ass he had.

You giggled at yourself as you took a sip of the coffee he’d brought, expecting the regular cafeteria sludge. Your eyes widened, and Jesse’s smile became just a little smug. This was _definitely_ not the cafeteria coffee. It lacked the usual “jet fuel” aftertaste, and you were sure you detected some notes of caramel and citrus.

“Wow,” you said, swallowing your first mouthful. “That’s really good…”

“It’s Saint Helena,” he explained, pulling a berliner out of the box. “Commander Reyes hates the coffee in the cafeteria, and once you’ve had some of his fancy shit, you kind of get a taste for it.”

“Did you steal your boss’ coffee for me, Jesse?” You asked, taking another sip, savouring the rich flavour.

He smiled sheepishly as he took a bite of his berliner. “Don’t tell, okay?”

You smiled and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “My lips are sealed.”

* * *

Coming back from your short vacation to Portugal was torturous. You missed the ocean air, you missed the warmth, and you missed your friends. Still, you had _kind of_ missed your work. And after all, you came back to a pleasant surprise—a small box, secured with a neatly-tied ribbon on your desk. A few of your co-workers eyed you knowingly, so you suspected they had some secret knowledge you didn’t. You picked up the present, and looked questioningly at Madeleine, whose desk was across from yours.

“Your Blackwatch dreamboat left that for you a few days ago,” she said, her smile just a _little_ smug. “You’d think he would have known you were on vacation, by the way he seems to know your schedule.”

You laughed as you shook your head. “Did you set him straight?” You asked, taking a seat at your desk as you began to set your things back in order.

“I did. He seemed awfully disappointed, and right away asked when you’d be back, so I told him the day after tomorrow…” There was a meaningful pause as she smiled more affectionately this time. “Thought you might want a day or two to get your head on straight. Coming back from vacation is always rough.”

You sighed as you leaned back in your chair with a long stretch. “Yeah, I’ve probably got about a thousand messages to sort through,” you muttered, a hand ruffling through your hair. “Thanks for playing gatekeeper.”

Admittedly, you wouldn’t have minded Jesse’s company right away, but you knew it would be smart to try getting caught up on your work, first. He wasn’t a huge distraction, at least—he tended to stop in only for short visits—but you were all too eager to let him distract you more and more, recently.

While your workstation booted up, you discretely lifted the lid off your package to find an assortment of different chocolates, all looking very fancy and artisanal. On the underside of the lid, the name of a _very_ fancy Parisian chocolatier you really liked, and a small, folded piece of paper.

_Hey, sweet pea,_

_I was doing some work in France last week, and I remembered you mentioned this place one of the last times we talked. Your friend told me you were on vacation, so hopefully these are a nice surprise to come back to._

_-J_

You could feel your stomach fluttering pleasantly—what a nice surprise to come back to, indeed…

* * *

He waited a few days after you were supposed to have been back before he started visiting again. You were glad to see him, and Madeleine definitely noticed. So did Spencer and Yigit, and the three of them _relentlessly_ teased you about it when Jesse wasn’t there.

You brushed them off, insisting that he was just good company. You also reminded them that he always brought treats to share with the rest of the Admin team, too. You tried to ignore it when they reminded you in turn that he only seemed to come around specifically when _you_ were there.

He continued to pop in every so often, always bringing you a coffee the way you liked it, and occasionally bringing pastries—you started to suspect he brought the pastries so his visits wouldn’t be so questionable, but everyone knew he was there to see you. Even you started to admit it to yourself, eventually.

You liked it. But then, he hadn’t done anything to suggest that he was actually interested in you beyond general companionship. You’d heard Blackwatch did a lot of HUMINT, and there was a lot of espionage and black ops stuff that you weren’t privy to. But he never asked you any questions that seemed like they might be fishing. He just hung around for a bit, made meaningful—if polite—conversation with you, and then he’d leave with a promise to come by with more coffee next time.

You looked forward to his visits.

Perhaps ironically, once you’d really gotten used to him stopping by, he stopped coming. You did your best to hide your disappointment. You told yourself you were just a passing fancy, and he’d gotten bored of you.

Then, he showed up one afternoon with his usual gift of coffee and pastries, along with a large, paper-wrapped packet.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” He teased as he set a coffee on your desk. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from answering— _yeah, actually, I did._ You smiled wanly as you took a sip of your coffee, waiting while he handed out berliners, choquettes, and canelés. Jesse sat down in the old plastic seat, setting the box down for you to pick out your éclair.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry for goin’ MIA,” he began, taking a bite out of his berliner and scattering powdered sugar across his mouth. “Had an op go longer than expected—can’t tell you where,” he winked as he set the paper-wrapped package on your desk, “but I got you a little somethin’ while I was there.”

You perked up, but tried not to look too eager.

He had gotten into that habit, before he’d disappeared—when he came back from an op, he’d always bring you something. Maybe a specialty foodstuff of the area, or some small little trinket. The last time he’d brought you something, it was a Rooster of Barcelos, and you’d had to try your hardest not to laugh when you showed him a matching one you’d bought for yourself when you’d been in the north visiting your friends. He had apologised, but you had waved him off and set the little figurine next to yours—“There. Now they won’t be lonely.” He had looked terribly pleased with that outcome.

This time, you weren’t sure what he’d brought you, and you carefully pawed at the waxy paper for a moment before Jesse scooted it a little closer. “Well, go on—open it.”

You could tell he was trying not to be too keen, his eyes flitting eagerly between your face and the package. You peeled away the layers of paper to reveal a neatly folded swatch of fabric. Intricate paisley embroidery in your favourite colour shimmered against a dark indigo background, the soft fabric feeling almost like clouds beneath your fingers. “Is this a—”

“Pashmina,” Jesse finished for you. “The lady selling them said they were good for any kind of weather, and you mentioned the temperature control in here sucks—”

“That’s an understatement!” Spencer called from his desk across the office. Jesse smiled thoughtfully, then turned back to you, his expression softening.

“I thought you might like something to help keep you warm when the heat stops workin’ proper,” he continued. He looked boyishly hopeful, and you tried to curb your own enthusiasm.

This was one of the most thoughtful gifts you’d received in a long time. Beyond being practical, it seemed like he’d put real thought into the colour choices, and it was a _really nice_ gift. Even though you wanted to try playing it cool, you couldn’t hide your smile.

“Thank you, Jesse. This is really sweet,” you said, standing and crossing out from behind your desk. He didn’t get a chance to stand before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, but he didn’t miss a beat. He put his arms around you in kind, and it surprised you how nice it felt to be held by him. You didn’t miss the deep breath he drew in, and wondered if he liked your perfume. He smelled earthy, like sandalwood and smoke, and you loved it.

Your embrace lingered a little too long, but you weren’t about to complain. When the two of you finally parted, you didn’t miss the light dusting of colour on his cheeks. With a sweet smile, you found your seat again, and wrapped the dark fabric around you in a flourish. It was silky soft, and felt wonderful against your skin. You wiggled happily in your seat, and Jesse sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m glad you like it, sweet pea,” he mumbled with a boyish smile. There was a pause, and he glanced around the office at the rest of the support staff. They were all very politely focused on their work, but their knowing smiles made him clear his throat.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work—”

“You can stay for awhile, if you want,” you stopped him, scooting your chair a little closer. You could multitask, and—“I missed your company.”

* * *

It was a late, _late_ night for you, but these budget reports weren’t going to review themselves, and they were due to the Strike Commander’s office tomorrow morning. There was also a quarterly audit, _and_ you were short-staffed. Spencer had _conveniently_ decided to go on vacation for three weeks, Madeleine had to go on early maternity leave, and Yigit was bedridden with a fever and flu-like symptoms.

That left only you, and the Executive Assistant, Patrizia, to crunch all the numbers and fill out all the paperwork and—

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jesse’s familiar voice came from the doorway. “Late night?”

You looked up, and couldn’t help your tired smile as he came in with a drink tray, and a white cardboard box. You took a moment to stretch your arms overhead with a groan, tilting your head this way and that to loosen your shoulders.

“Yeah. Budget reports for the Strike Commander’s office, and there’s the quarterly audits,” you sighed.

He set the coffee down on your desk, pushing the box towards you. “You look like you could use a little pick me up,” he commented, taking a seat in the creaky plastic monstrosity on the other side of your desk.

You smiled sweetly as you took a sip of the coffee, savouring the richness and the fact that Jesse was better at making it now than you were. “That’s an understatement,” you muttered. “We’re down three people, so it’s just me and Riz doing all this stuff. I haven’t slept in my own place for two days.” You laughed at the last sentence, but Jesse frowned.

“That’s no good, sugar plum. You need your rest,” he insisted.

You smiled thinly, taking a long drink from your cup. “Thanks, mom,” you teased. “It’s okay, though. Really. It’s just until we get all this budget and audit stuff finished up. I’m due for some time in lieu anyway,” you shrugged.

Jesse narrowed his eyes, then tentatively reached for the pile of papers on your desk. “Mind if I have a look?”

You pushed it closer. “Yeah, there’s nothing sensitive in there.” You didn’t mention that you trusted him to be discrete if there was. He flipped through some of the pages, then set the pile back on your desk.

“I’m an old hand at sorting through these kinds of things—I used to do desk duty for Reyes, back when I first came on board,” Jesse explained. “If you’ve got a spare tablet hangin’ around, I’d be happy to help—”

“Jesse,” you stopped him. “It’s like 1:30 in the morning. I appreciate you bringing me coffee and treats, but you don’t have to—”

“Listen, sweetheart,” he cut you off. “If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t have offered in the first place. Come on, now,” he drawled, throwing hilariously bad “puppy eyes” at you. “Let ol’ McCree help you out.”

You covered your mouth to stop yourself from snorting. “Stop making that face at me and I’ll think about it,” you laughed. Jesse beamed as he sat back, and you let out a sigh as you dug through the cabinet behind you for a spare tablet. After a few quick taps to calibrate it, you handed it over the desk to him.

“If you can sort through the budget reports and prioritize it by department, I’d appreciate it. And if you get to the audits, summarize any reports whose priority is marked less than Routine and forward them to me so I can categorize them appropriately.”

Jesse nodded sagely, then turned to the tablet, and got to work.

You weren’t sure how much time passed the two of you in silence, but you were _immensely_ grateful for the help. Having a second set of eyes and hands to sort through those reports was a Godsend, and you decided you owed him dinner. Or at least a bottle of the Old Forester that he seemed to speak so fondly of.

You wondered if you could get some imported without too much hassle…

Some hours had passed by now, and the words in front you were beginning to blur. You yawned loudly as you rubbed your eyes.

“Why don’t you go take a quick nap, sweetheart? I’ll keep workin’, and I won’t tell anyone that you went AWOL,” he said, winking at you.

With a sweet smile, you shook your head, though you did appreciate the concern laced into his voice. “I’m okay, Jesse,” you fibbed, your fatigue coming through in your voice. “Just need to stretch my legs.”

You stepped away from your desk, leaning this way and that. It felt good, but you found it didn’t help your energy levels; you were still dead tired, and a hair’s breadth away from falling asleep, even standing up. You felt Jesse’s warmth at your back, and instinctively leaned into him. You heard his breath catch, and flustered as you remembered yourself—that wasn’t appropriate and—

His hands came to rest on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing careful circles on your tense muscles. You couldn’t help your groan as your head drooped into your chest—okay, that felt _nice_. He chuckled as he carried on, putting a little more pressure behind his touch.

“That feel alright?” He asked.

You nodded with a long-suffering sigh, happy to let him continue. “Yeah,” you mumbled. “I don’t mean to impose—”

“It’s no trouble,” he stopped you. “But why don’t you sit down on the couch? It’d make it easier for us both.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed, taking a seat on the sofa. You were surprised at how comfortable the old piece of furniture felt to you, when you were drifting along the edges of sleep. You felt him scoot up behind you, strong hands working on the tension in your shoulders and upper back. You couldn’t be bothered to try holding in your low groans and soft mewls—it felt _good_ , and you were exhausted anyway. He seemed to take it in stride, finding all the tension points in your shoulders and back, working the kinks out with ease.

Yeah, you _definitely_ owed him a bottle of Old Forester.

His touch eventually began to soften, and he rubbed along your arms. “You doin’ alright there, sweet pea?” He called for your attention, and you nodded lazily with a hum of agreement.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, already half asleep. “Thanks, Jesse. That was… really nice.”

He chuckled as he patted your shoulder. “Happy to help,” he put in.

With a long, deep sigh, you leaned back against his chest. There was a brief pause, and then you felt him shift behind you until he was mostly horizontal. It probably looked compromising, and you didn’t relish the idea of having to explain yourself if someone walked in on you, but it was ass o’clock at night—you weren’t even supposed to be there, and Patrizia had left early to go celebrate her wife’s birthday.

No, no one was going to catch you like this, and if they did, well… you’d just have to cross that bridge when you came to it.

Despite the assumption that Jesse was all gristle and hard muscle, he was a remarkably good pillow. He put his arms around your middle, and you could feel the hesitation in that gesture.

“This okay, sweet pea?” He asked. He was apprehensive—you could hear it in his voice, and you nodded as you shifted, turning over so you were facing him instead.

“Mm, yeah,” you mumbled, cozying in against his chest. You could feel the stutter in his heartbeat, and part of you was gratified to know you could affect him like that, even fleetingly. “Is _this_ okay?” You asked, realising you might be crossing a boundary.

A warm hand rested on the small of your back, and a pleasant tingling trickled out through your limbs. “It’s just fine, sweetheart,” he murmured. You felt him shifting, then were engulfed by the warmth of the plush throw blanket.

No more words passed between you, but you vaguely heard Jesse’s low humming helping you drift.

* * *

When you woke up, you were _immensely_ comfortable. You despised the idea of moving, but it only took you a moment to realise where you were. On the sofa in the Admin office, laying on top of Jesse and—oh _no_. You sat back as you sucked in a sharp breath and looked down—you’d drooled on him.

Barely, but still—“I’m sorry,” you blurted, voice still hoarse with sleep. He was awake, but definitely snoozing. His fingers had been tangled up in the hair at the base of your neck until you’d sat back so suddenly.

He looked at you sleepily, a little perplexed, then glanced down at the dime-sized spot on his shirt. He _laughed_ then, his head thrown back as he clapped a hand over his chest. When he’d recovered, he grinned at you, just a little smug.

“Well, I must be a great pillow, then.”

You laughed as you scooted off of him. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, rubbing your eyes and stretching your arms overhead. “I really am sorry, though. I’ll get you a new shirt.”

Jesse shook his head as he sat up next to you, running his hands through his hair a few times to make it sit right. “Don’t worry about it, sugar plum. I’m just glad you got yourself a little shut-eye.” A beat passed as his hand came to rest tentatively on the nape of your neck. “Feelin’ better, I hope?”

The early sunlight was filtering through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the room, and even bleary-eyed, he still looking at you with what you could only describe as affection. It made you feel warm, and you brushed your thumb down the side of his face.

“Yeah. Thanks, Jesse,” you said, leaning forward to leave a quick kiss on his cheek. “For everything.” And you meant it. You hoped he understood that.

Jesse caught your hand and left a quick kiss on your palm, fingers squeezing yours as he watched you with a sudden intensity. You swallowed—now you were a little _too_ warm.

His expression softened, and he rubbed circles on your skin as he held your hand in his lap. “Maybe I’m readin’ it wrong, but… you think you might let me take you out on a date sometime?” He’d tried to come off as easy and nonchalant, but you didn’t miss the hopeful bead in his voice.

There was a pause as you flustered. It hadn’t been completely unexpected, but it still managed to catch you off-guard. Would you let him take you on a date? Well, you’d probably let him do more than that—you stopped yourself from following that train of thought.

Clearing your throat, you felt your cheeks flood with heat, and you squeezed his fingers. “I think I’d like that…”


End file.
